


Reasonable

by lastdream



Series: Superhero Shorts [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Fusion, Love Confessions, M/M, by that i mean daredevil and spiderman, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastdream/pseuds/lastdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Courfeyrac stops to think about it (which is often) he usually concludes that he would never have even finished school if it weren’t for his much more responsible friend propping him up the whole way.</p><p>Which is what makes it utterly baffling that Combeferre is sticking around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasonable

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK I WROTE SOMETHING HAPPY
> 
> So I finished Daredevil and I thought "Hey, Combeferre would make a really interesting Matt Murdock," and then C/C had to work its way in because of course it did, and then Courfeyrac became a less annoying Foggy who became Spiderman... because. Reasons. Don't ask me how my brain works, okay?

Courfeyrac knows he’s half-mad. He must be, to try to help people as part of a law firm that’s really more of a law dorm room graduated to office space. He and Combeferre are both pretty good at what they do, but their poor conditions help them practice about as much as Combeferre’s blindness helps him cross the street. It’s been weeks since they had an actual client— a man named Bossuet who showed up in front of their office, sporting some unlikely-looking wounds and a wry smile— and Courfeyrac isn’t sure how much longer they can afford to keep the lights on.

So yeah. He knows he’s mad to stick with it. The fact that he’s in love with the other half of his law team doesn’t make him any less crazy for giving up the much more lucrative job offer.

Combeferre, though— Combeferre is and has always been the reasonable one. Throughout college, he was the one staying up late to work on papers and research and a hundred other things that must’ve taken him twice as much effort as anyone else. As near as Courfeyrac can tell, you can’t skim in braille. More than that, though, Courfeyrac probably would’ve been late to every class and showed up each Monday with the hangover from hell if it weren’t for Combeferre.

When Courfeyrac stops to think about it (which is often) he usually concludes that he would never have even finished school if it weren’t for his much more responsible friend propping him up the whole way.

Which is what makes it utterly baffling that Combeferre is sticking around.

He’s usually so sane, so balanced, and this decision to stay with Courfeyrac, to try to practice law together when neither of them can really make ends meet, is an immense break from character. Combeferre must have some logical reason for doing it, but Courfeyrac has been hunting for it from the moment Combeferre agreed to be a starving hipster lawyer with him, and he still hasn’t found it. 

Courfeyrac is in the middle of puzzling this out for about the thousandth time as he takes the long, long elevator ride up the Oscorp Tower. The little notebook he’s carrying says that he can find Bossuet on the forty-sixth floor, but his handwriting is truly atrocious, so it might also say forty-eighth, or ninety-sixth, or ninety-eighth, so Courfeyrac has pressed all four buttons just in case.

He takes a moment to marvel at the fact that Oscorp Tower has a ninety-eighth floor as the button lights up under his fingers.

Because Courfeyrac is not the reasonable one, it takes him until about the thirtieth floor to realize that having pressed all four buttons in no way guarantees that he will be able to figure out which one he’s supposed to be on. He’ll have a thirty second window while the doors are open to, what? Glance around? See if Bossuet happens to be standing in plain view of the elevator doors? God, he’s stupid.

Courfeyrac gets off at the forty-sixth floor, just in case, and finds himself in a smallish atrium that appears to be deserted. Now, why would that be? he wonders to himself. The inner Sherlock Holmes he never quite quashed waves a magnifying glass pointedly at the empty hallway off to the left.

Well, it isn’t quite empty. There’s a pale blue light that seems to be coming from somewhere further down the hall. 

This is a terrible, terrible idea, and Courfeyrac absolutely knows that, but he heads down the hallway anyway.

The blue light is emanating from an unmarked, ajar door. He can’t see what’s inside it— it isn’t open far enough for that— but it’s definitely an interesting thing to have on an otherwise deserted floor of a scientific development company’s tower. The inner Sherlock Holmes jumps up and smirks in a self-satisfied manner, and then imperiously points his magnifying glass at the room beyond the door. 

This is an even worse idea, but Courfeyrac carefully opens the door (using the backs of his knuckles to avoid leaving fingerprints, he isn’t entirely idiotic) and steps inside the room full of blue light.

As it turns out, there are a grand total of two things in the room. Blue light, and a fuck ton of spiders. Spiders in jars, spiders spinning webs in glass boxes, spiders dead and pinned to cards, spiders attached to each other in a compromising way on a shelf at eye-level… Courfeyrac respectfully averts his eyes from that pair, though he expects that the male will be digested at some point in the near future anyway.

Or maybe it’s just black widows that do that? What the hell, Courfeyrac is lawyer, not an arachnid-olo— someone who studies spiders. Whatever you call that, Courfeyrac isn’t it.

The most interesting thing about the room is not the spiders.

Well, it is, in a way, but not exactly. The most interesting thing about the room is the blue light, because it isn’t coming from LEDs or black lights or fluorescents with weird filters or any other kind of bulb that Courfeyrac can see.

No, the light is coming from the spiders.

And Courfeyrac may know fuck all about spiders, but he does know that they’re not supposed to be glowing. He should probably get out of here.

He makes his way back towards the door as quickly as he can, but he isn’t quick enough. Just as he puts the backs of his knuckles to the door again to push it open, he feels a sharp, sudden sting on the nape of his neck, and without even wondering he knows exactly what just happened. 

He just got bit by a glowing spider in a room he wasn’t supposed to be in on a deserted floor he also wasn’t supposed to be in. Combeferre is going to kill him.

Courfeyrac swats the spider away and flees, out of the room, down the hall, down the elevator, out of the building, down the street, and all the way back to his building. The bite on the back of his neck burns the whole way, growing worse with every step as the pain of what has to be venom spreads throughout his bloodstream. He doesn’t think he can go to the hospital— what would they even do for a glowing spider-bite?

So when he gets home, he immediately sits down on his couch and calls Combeferre. Combeferre is the reasonable one, so calling him must be the reasonable thing to do. Right?

“I think I’m dying,” is his opening line.

“Courfeyrac,” returns Combeferre, sounding exasperated. He also sounds a little out of breath, which is odd. What is he doing? It’s getting late in the evening, and even if the changing light won’t affect him, it will affect the ability of other people to see him and keep from hitting him with their cars and killing him horribly. Courfeyrac is not above admitting that his not-romantic-partner’s blindness terrifies him sometimes. Then the bite twinges, and he remembers which of them is in more immediate danger of death.

“No, really, I mean it. A glowing spider bit me and now my neck hurts like hell,” he insists. 

“You’re telling the truth,” Combeferre says, astounded. Courfeyrac wants to be offended, but having actually been in the same room as himself for more than five minutes, he can’t really be surprised.

“Yes!” he exclaims anyway. It’s a point of pride. Even if he is dying.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What? Combeferre, how on earth can you get here in—“ There’s a click as Combeferre hangs up the phone. “Five minutes,” Courfeyrac finishes lamely. He leans back against the couch and waits— for death or Combeferre, whichever comes first. The pain of the bite has spread down his neck and to the whole of his spine, which now seems to be on fire and also attempting to evacuate his body. His muscle cells are quickly joining the exodus.

By the time three minutes have passed, the feeling has spread to his whole body, but it’s also lessened a little bit. Diluted, or something.

At the four-and-a-half minute mark, there’s a knock on the door. What the hell.

Courfeyrac stands up and staggers to the door, opening it to find Combeferre on the other side. Combeferre who is dressed in dark, athletic clothing, and doesn’t look at all like a normal blind person. His cane is gone, his uncovered eyes are focusing almost normally, and he’s panting hard. 

His chest is really, really nicely toned.

Maybe Courfeyrac is going to be okay after all. His libido seems to be doing fine, at least.

“What on earth, Combeferre? Are you a pod person?”

“No, I—“ At that exact moment, Courfeyrac’s muscles twinge viciously and he goes down hard. Or at least, he expects to go down hard. Instead he finds himself deftly caught in those strong arms and carried to the couch. Combeferre lays him down so gently, it’s beautiful to experience. “I’ve got you.”

Combeferre’s concerned face is the last thing Courfeyrac sees before he passes out.

When he wakes, he first becomes aware of the sound of Combeferre’s breathing, and then the softer, steadier sound of his heartbeat. It sounds warm and soothing and it makes Courfeyrac feel happy in a way he can’t quantify.

Then he realizes he can hear Combeferre’s heart, and he about jumps out of his skin.

“What the hell,” he says, and then he winces because he had no idea his voice was so loud before.

“Your senses are more acute now. You’ll have to learn to tune things out so that you can function normally again,” says Combeferre softly, 

“How do you know that?” Courfeyrac demands in a whisper. 

“You’re showing the same signs I was when I first had to adjust. Sensitivity to sound, heat, airflow. I know how you’re feeling right now, or near enough. You also seem to be sensitive to light, but that I can’t help you with.”

“Help me with— what happened to me?”

“The spider appears to have been radioactive, and its bite has changed your biological makeup in interesting ways. Enhanced senses are, I expect, only the beginning.”

“How do you know that?” Courfeyrac manages as he struggles into a sitting position. He thinks Combeferre was probably right about sensitivity to light, because he appreciates the near-total darkness so much right now. 

“After my accident, I experienced massive increase in sensory perception in all other areas. I can feel airflow distortion as you react to different stimuli, and the microscopic damage done by the radioactive particles— don’t worry, they’re inert now. They seem to have very short half-lives. I— I knew you were telling the truth because I could hear your heartbeat over the phone.” Combeferre sounds embarrassed, almost afraid, to be telling Courfeyrac this. Courfeyrac can’t imagine why.

“Seriously, dude? That’s so cool. Radiation, and my heartbeat— I mean— I didn’t even think phone speakers could pick that up!”

“It doesn’t. It can hear the blood rushing in your ear, like when you put a seashell up to your ear to ‘hear the ocean.’ You really think it’s… cool?”

“Yeah, absolutely! And now I get to do it too? Past me is so jealous of present me, you don’t even understand. Combeferre, why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Courfeyrac realizes the second the question leaves his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. Combeferre recoils and draws in on himself a little, in a way that seems so wrong in a person with such strength and assurance— and literal strength, Courfeyrac can see now.

“I thought it would… bother you. How strange I am. I’m so glad it doesn’t… I can hear your heartbeat, I know you’re telling the truth.” Combeferre’s mouth ticks up a little on one side. “But you probably won’t be nearly so sensitive as I am.”

“Well, you can’t have everything. Maybe I’ll get super-strength or something to make up for it.” Courfeyrac thinks for a moment, and then something awful occurs to him. “Combeferre, if you were just worried about my reaction, you wouldn’t have kept this from me for as long as we’ve been friends. You’re the reasonable one, you wouldn’t continue keeping a secret for no reason just as a point of pride. There has to be something else you’re not telling me.”

Combeferre, brilliant, self-assured, amazing Combeferre hesitates.

“The one the papers are calling the Daredevil. That’s me,” he finally says in a soft voice.

“No way,” gasps Courfeyrac. “Oh my god, my best friend is a superhero. That is the most awesome thing ever to happen to me, ever. Hold still and let me hug you.”

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre says warningly, and oh no, that’s his serious tone. The one he only breaks out like a mother breaks out her child’s middle name. Courfeyrac is in trouble, and he knows it, but he can’t imagine for what.

“Combeferre,” he returns, just to be obstinate.

“I realized that I had the ability and the opportunity to help, so I did. It was… reasonable.” A small smile. "But I don’t want you to treat me differently because of this,” Combeferre begins. It sounds like he has a lecture prepared, but Courfeyrac really, really doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to congratulate the man he loves on his crime-fighting efforts, he wants to join now that he knows and might be able to help, he wants to kiss him senseless if Combeferre will allow it— he wants many things, but a lecture is not one of them.

Courfeyrac hasn’t forgotten all his original reasons for keeping his tragic love from Combeferre— not least of which is the preservation of their friendship, which is the light of his life— but they all suddenly pale in comparison to the need to show his friend just how much his feelings for him haven’t changed, and won’t in the future.

So Courfeyrac kisses his best friend right on the mouth.

“There,” he says definitively. “This is how I feel, how I did before and how I do still. You don’t have to worry about special treatment from me.”

Combeferre’s head cocks like he’s listening extra-hard, and one of his hands comes up to touch his lips in a move that’s so cliche that Courfeyrac just has to laugh at it. Then he does the exact same thing, because he could swear he can feel a tingling sensation in his lips, and he doesn’t know if it’s the kiss or just some weird side effect of the spider bite.

(Courfeyrac knows exactly why his lips are tingling, but the spider bite is a great excuse if he needs one.)

“Alright,” Combeferre says slowly, face impassive. Courfeyrac suddenly worries that he has ruined something after all, but then he sees the little tick at the corner of Combeferre’s mouth, and he knows that there’s a real reaction to come if he just waits a little longer. “Well, if that’s how you feel… it’s a little tame.”

“What?” Courfeyrac knows, objectively, that the face he’s making right now must be a caricature of confusion, but he can’t bring himself to care because Combeferre is speaking in riddles and Courfeyrac needs to know what they mean.

Well, maybe they aren’t riddles, but Courfeyrac can be excused for having a fried brain. He just got superpowers and kissed the man he loves for the first time in the same calendar day.

“If that’s the way you feel, it’s perfectly fine. It’s just that I feel more like this—“ Combeferre presses Courfeyrac back into the couch and kisses him deeply, forcing his tongue into his mouth and moving their lips passionately together. It goes on and on until neither of them have breath but neither of them is willing to separate, either. “Would you be amenable to that?"

“Oh," Courfeyrac says dazedly when they break apart. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”


End file.
